Last Breath
by hovergirl
Summary: Hermione writes a letter to Harry in hopes of healing her broken heart a month after his death.


Dear Harry,

**Title: **Last Breath****

**Summary: **Hermione writes a letter to Harry in hopes of healing her broken heart a month after his death. ****

**Song listened to while writing it: **"Yellow" by Cold Play

**A/N:** I really like this one.  A lot.  Review if you have the time.

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_Dear Harry,_

_            It's been awhile since I've spoken to you, and when you left, many things were left unsaid on my behalf.  I wanted to tell you some things that I probably should have said a long time ago.  I wanted to tell you that I'd never forget you, and that you'll always be with me, and me with you.  I wanted to tell you how much you meant to me.  A regret unlike anything I've known fills my heart now, because I never had the chance to tell you—or rather, never had the courage—to say what I meant to long ago.  But now, those words will forever go unsaid, living only in the deepest wells of my soul—and written on this parchment that will more than likely be discovered in some forgotten drawer, dusty and torn, years after I have passed away._

_            I remember well the day you left.  The moments we last shared together keep replaying in my mind like a blurry videotape.  And the more I try to hold onto them, the hazier they become.  I remember you lying there in the blood-soaked snow, shivering in my arms as I foolishly tried to keep you alive by merely holding you close to me heart.  I watched as my tears began to soak your already blood-laden robes.  I listened as you whispered in my ear the last words you would ever say.  I cried as your body became limp, and I held onto you so tight, as if it would bring you back, as if I would die if you died._

_            And I'm dying slowly anyway._

_            Every time I hear your name, I die a bit more.  And people say your name even more now than when you were alive, so you can imagine how quickly I will be passing on.  It wouldn't be so bad, I guess…_

_            I won't lie to you though: your funeral was terribly boring.  Practically every wizard and witch in Britain attended, and it was long and dull and completely full of it.  The Ministry worker who gave the eulogy kept talking about how great and important you were.  He said "everyone in the wizarding world should give their thanks to him, for he has managed to destroy the most powerful dark wizard of our time.  He gave his life to save us blah blah blah".   I can't remember the rest, but you would've hated it.  I didn't cry (although most everyone else did).  In fact, I hardly wanted to.  It was almost like I should have been inside the casket with you, for I feel dead also.  You were my whole life, and now you're gone.  What else can I do?_

_            It seems as though years have passed, and I am an old woman brooding over events that happened long ago.  But really, only a month has passed, I'm still twenty-two, and I've nearly gotten over my whole "brooding stage".  I'm running out of things to do.  Now that you aren't here to take me on a new and great adventure every week, what else can I do?_

_            And it's such a wonder that, in all those times we were alone together, I never told you how I felt.  I suspect you must have known by that point how I felt about you, but I still wanted to tell you.  There's a big difference between assumption and affirmation._

_            I really wanted you to know; I really wanted to say it…_

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A tear fell on the page, smearing the freshly inked words: _say it_…

            But I guess there's nothing I can do.  I hope you'll wait for me.  I'll stand outside the gates of Heaven, waiting for you to come fly me away into a place all our own.  Even if you never come, I would stand there forever.  I would sacrifice everything I have to see you again.  I know I'm not making any sense, that that could never happen, and these thoughts will forever just remain wishes in my head.  Dead wishes.

For now, to soothe my aching heart, I will listen to our last conversation in my head, listening to your voice over and over.  I can still here you whispering in my ear all those wonderful things you said.

You were born a boy, and died a man, Harry Potter.  You were the most wonderful person in existence.  Even if you weren't The Boy Who Lived, you'd still be the most amazing person I know.  And before I have to forget about you and move on, I needed you to know that I care, and I miss you terribly.  Goodbye, Harry.  I love you.

- Hermione

She folded the parchment, put it gingerly into in envelope, and sealed it with red wax.  She picked up a wooden box with intricate carvings on it, and placed the envelope inside it.  She stared at the blank front of the envelope sadly, then closed and locked the wooden lid.  

"Goodbye, Harry," she said to the box.

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She ran through the forest, adrenaline coursing through her blood, her heart beating as fast and as loud as a drum.  Snowy-wet brambles caught at her clock as she swept out into the icy field, rushing towards the spot where he lay, bruised and broken.  A wide patch of blood red snow was surrounding him where he lay face down in the freezing snow, spreading ever faster as more and more blood seeped out of his deep wounds.  

Her breath faltered and she stumbled, but quickly recovered her balance and trampled through the knee-deep snow toward his side.  She dropped down to her knees beside his shivering body, and turned him over gently to face her.  He turned his eyes to her, a look of deep, terrible sadness chiseled on his steady features.  Just looking at his beautiful, bruised face made tears begin to prick at her eyes, then stream down her face silently.  She held his cold face in her warm hands and kissed his cheeks over and over until he began to speak.

"Hermione," he said in a choked voice, "I'm so sorry…"  He shivered violently as one of her teardrops landed on his cheek, and she wiped it off with a shaking hand.  "I'm sorry I never told you…"  He took a gasping breath, and a tear rolled down the side of his face.  

At the look on his face, she let out a whimper and began to sob harder.  She desperately wanted to say something, but her voice was stuck behind her choked sobbing, so she just continued to listen.

"I wanted to spend my life with you," he whispered sadly, "I wanted to get married and have children…"  His voice wavered, and his eyes began to overflow with hot, stinging tears.  "I wanted us to grow old together."

Hermione let a smile surface for a moment, and held his hand as tightly as she could, never wanting to let go of him.  She pictured in his face a younger version of him, the one she had begun to love so many years ago.  Now he was grown, his features were harder, more masculine.  His eyes were darker, scarred by all the things he had been through.  She thought if there was ever anything truly beautiful, it was he.  At this moment, as he spoke his heart to her, crying for it all, there was nothing more beautiful.

"I'm scared, Hermione," he confessed in a tiny, childlike whisper, which made her want to die, "I…I…"  

He let in a rattling breath, and began to sob uncontrollably in her arms, which made her sob uncontrollably too.  They sat there together for a long time, crying for everything wrong in the world, until Hermione didn't have the strength to hold him up any longer, and Harry didn't have the strength to do much of anything anymore.  She laid him back down in the snow, grasping onto his cloak helplessly, leaning her head on his chest.  She listened to his breathing.

In.  Out.

In.  Out.

She pleaded silently to his rising and falling chest, Please don't stop…  

"Hermione," he whispered softly.  She lifted her face to see him better.  "Hermione, I'm dying, there's nothing you or I can do to stop it.  So I wanted to tell you with my last breath…"

She shook her head softly, willing him silently not to say it. 

"…I love you." 

He exhaled slowly, but didn't breathe in again.  Ever.

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End file.
